Fateful Lightning
by Parable
Summary: Sometimes Worlds pass by each other. Sometimes they collide. Sometimes they merge. What happens when Gensokyo and America, year 1862, merge into each other? Join President Scarlet, 16th leader of the USG, a nation at war with itself and find out.


This is my first Touhou fanfic so if I mess up the characterization or anything feel free to chew me out, light me on fire, or anything else to display your wrath.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, settings, or storylines of the Touhou Project.

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"Sakuya?"

Sakuya, about to leave the room turned her head back towards the mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Remilia Scarlet had been reading when Sakuya had delivered her tea. Now she was staring out the window, at the bright blue sky above the garden with the tea cup in her hand. "Yes, my Lady?"

"When was the last time you dreamed?" Remilia Scarelet asked without turning to the Head Maid.

Sakuya brought her finger up to her chin, giving the question a few moments of thought. When was the last time she had dreamed? Was it the time she had dreamed Marisa had stolen everything in the mansion? Or was it the time she dreamed she and Pachouli had traded places? Or was her last dream one of those hazy ones that disappeared the moment she woke up?

"Honestly, my Lady, I can't seem to recall." she said at last with a small chuckle.

Remilia nodded and took a sip of her tea. "I take it you don't dream often then?"

"No, not really." Sakuya admitted. "What brings this up, my Lady?"

"I've been dreaming a lot lately." Remilia said. "Almost every night for the past week or so, actually."

This raised Sakuya's interest. She hurried back over to the small table Remilia sat at and pulled out a chair next to her. "Continue." she said. Remilia took another drink before talking.

"Every night I dream the same dream." She paused for a moment and thought that over. "Well, that's not entirely true. Each night is different but the man and place I dream about is always the same."

Sakuya raised an eyebrow and made a "Hmm...?" noise at that.

"I am in a room," Remilia continued. "With this man. Sometimes with others and sometimes alone. I'm never sure what they are saying, its like the sound is gone even though I can see their lips moving."

"Do you try to talk to them?" Sakuya pressed.

"I tried, but they seem to not notice me. I even tried to grab a man's arm but my hand passed through it. I don't think they even notice I'm there. Like I'm a ghost or something." Remilia shrugged, as if it did not matter. "Except for that one man. the one who always appears. Sometimes I think he knows I am there."

"What do you mean?"

"He sometimes acts like he knows I am there even if he can't seem me. When I try to talk to the people in the room he sometimes turns towards me, as if he thinks he heard something but nothing is there. Once when I tried to touch him he immediatly moved away and felt where my hand was. I feel he ''knows'' I am there even if we can't talk to each other."

"What does this man look like?" Sakuya asked.

"He's tall. Very tall. Taller than Meiling. And that hat makes him seem even taller! He has dark hair, and a scraggly beard." Remilia rubbed her own chin thoughtfully. "His eyes though, there is something about his eyes. Sharp, he is always thinking, always noticing everything. I suspect he thinks even in his sleep. But also sad. So very sad eyes. I don't know why. I see him smiling and laughing at times but the eyes are always sad."

She turned to Sakuya. "Do you know anyone like that?"

Sakuya had in fact been trying to match up Remilia's description with anyone she might have known before the question was asked. She could only shake her head though. "Nobody that I can recall."

"Well, anyway," Remilia continued, "The last couple of night have been a bit different. When I am in my dream I am not staring at the man and the others. I - I think I am the man!"

Sakuya stared.

"It's like, just last night, instead of watching everything from a corner I was sitting in the chair the man was normally sitting in. They were talking to me like I was him and I was answering. I was holding something in my hand - my hand, not his, I was in my own body - I think it was a paper."

Remilia's brow scrunched up as she struggled to remember. "E... Emanciple? Eminate? Emancipation? That's it! Emancipation!" Triumph turned into confusion on Remilia's face. "What does that mean anyway?"

Sakuya shrugged again. "I'll ask Patchouli to look it up." she said but Remilia waved her off.

"Never mind, it's not important." the Scarlet Devil said. "The point is I have never seen this place or those people or that man in particular. How can everyone save one person in my own dream ignore me?"

Sakuya shrugged once more.

Remilia groaned in frustration. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in a week! I must be getting old." she grumbled.

"Would you like me to fix something that will help you sleep better tonight, my Lady?" Sakuya offered.

"Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you, Sakuya. And thanks for listening to my natter."

"It sounded interesting, my Lady." the Head Maid said as she got up. "Odd, but interesting. I'll go see to lunch and then I will find something for your sleep."

"Thanks again." Remilia said as the maid left the room. Remilia turned and stared out the window. Truth be told, she left out one detail.

"These aren't dreams though." she muttered. "I'm sure of it. Something is amiss, I just don't know what.

-#-#-#-#

"Seward?"

Secretary of State William Seward, about to leave the room turned his head back towards the current occupant of the White House. Abraham Lincoln had been reading a telegraph when Seward had delivered a report. Now he was staring out the window, at the dark midnight sky. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"When was the last time you dreamed?" The president asked.

Seward gave the question a few moments of thought. When was the last time he had dreamed? Was it when he dreamed there was no war? Was it when he dreamed he had been elected president? Or was his last dream one of those hazy ones that disappeared the moment he woke up?

"Can't really say." Seward said at last.

"I take it you don't dream often then?" Lincoln asked.

"Not really, no." Seward admitted. "Why do you ask?"

"I've been dreaming a lot lately." Lincoln said. "Almost every night for the past week or so, actually."

Sewards curiosity had been peeked. He strolled back over to Lincoln's desk and took a seat from one of the chairs in front of it. "About what?" he asked. Lincoln thought long and hard before talking.

"Every night I dream the same dream." he paused for a moment and thought that over. "Well, that's not entirely true. Each night is different but the girl and place I dream about is always the same."

"A girl?" Seward wondered aloud. Inwardly he wondered in Lincoln had told his wife about this.

"Yes, a girl" Lincoln confirmed. "A young girl, quite a lovely little thing except she has blue hair and red eyes. Can you imagine that?" When Seward said nothing he continued. "I dream of this girl. Sometimes with others and sometimes alone. I'm never sure what they are saying, its like the sound is gone even though I can see their lips moving."

"Do you try to communicate with them?" Seward asked

"I tried, but they seem to not notice me. I even tried to grab a man's arm but my hand passed through it. I don't think they even notice I'm there. Like I'm a ghost or something." Lincoln shook his head, as if it did not matter. "Except for that one girl. The one who always appears. Sometimes I think she knows I am there."

"What do you mean?"

"She sometimes acts like she knows I am there even if she can't see me. When I try to talk to the people, all women by the way, in the room she sometimes turns towards me, as if she thinks she heard something but nothing is there. Once, when I tried to touch her, she immediatly moved away and felt where my hand had been. I feel she _knows_ I am there even if we can't talk to each other."

"This sounds rather outlandish, even for your dreams." said Seward. Lincoln chuckled.

"True. Very true, my friend. I just can't seem to shake this one though." Lincoln stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Especially the girl. There is something about her. She looks so young but her mannerism are of a refined and older woman. Much older, in fact. Her eyes, I have looked into them and they seem to be ages older than her body. Yet, at the same time, they seem mischievous. There is a sparkle in those eyes. Something..."

He trailed off and turned to his Cabinet member. "Sounds farfetched, doesn't it?"

Seward had to agree, even as his mind poured over trying to recall any story or fairy tales that might have started this dream.

"Well, anyway, " The president continued, "The last couple of night have been a bit different. When I am in my dream I am not staring at the girl and the others. I - I think I am the girl!"

Seward blinked.

"Just last night, instead of watching everything from a corner, I was sitting in my chair right here instead. We - you, me, and some others - were talking only I could feel that I was different. I was holding my proclamation from yesterday and I saw that my hand was that of the girl's. You all were talking to me but calling me something different. Not my name."

Lincoln's brow scrunched up as he struggled to remember. "Scarlet, I think. Remilia Scarlet!" Triumph turned into confusion on Lincoln's face. "I have never heard of anyone by that name."

Seward shrugged again. "It must be an old folktale you've forgotten. I'll ask the librarian to look it up." he said but Lincoln waved him off.

"Never mind, it's not important." The President said. "The point is, I have never seen this place or those people or that girl in particular. How can everyone save one person in my own dream ignore me?"

Seward shrugged once more.

Lincoln muttered something under his breath. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in a week. Between this and the war I feel like a wreck." he said more loudly.

This alarmed Seward. "Would you like me to get you prescribed something that will help you sleep better tonight, sir?" he offered quickly.

"Yeah, that would be nice. Thank you, Seward. And thanks for listening to my ramblings."

"It sounded interesting, sir." he replied as he got up. "An interesting distraction from our normal affairs at any rate. I'll go see if any doctors are still awake. In the meantime, Abraham, try and get some rest."

"Thanks again." Lincoln said as the Secretary of State left the room. He turned and stared out the window, frowning. Truth be told, he left out one detail.

"These aren't dreams though." he muttered. "I'm sure of it. Something is amiss, I just don't know what.

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